Hell and Back
by reeds48
Summary: Dean doesn't remember you when you bump into him at a bar. It had been years… but you thought for sure that he wouldn't have forgotten. You sure as hell haven't. Is Dean a friend? Or should you be wary of him? You did have a good reason to be scared of him. You shivered as the memories of Dean flashed across your thoughts. ( Dean/Y/N POV)
1. Chapter 1

S. Reed

Hell and back again

Warning: Foul Language

Not on a real timeline? POV changes between dean and the reader

I dont own any of the characters

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Dean was weary. He had been traveling far too long. As much as he loved driving he desperately needed a drink. He was in a bad mood because he and Sam had to split ways when they caught wind of two possible hunts; a wendigo in East Montana, and a mystery monster in West Montana. Sam took the wendigo, which made Dean feel a little better, but not by much. He didn't like being separated from Sam. He knew Sam could take care of himself, but he always felt better being there to watch over him. And anyways, Sam had stated that Dean was more than able to take care of this one on his own.

When dean finally pulled into the small town in Montana, the first thing he did was check into a motel. He stepped into the tiny motel room and looked around. The walls had faded out of style wallpaper. The thinning carpet had stains from only God knows what. He threw his duffle bag on the only bed in the room. A twinge of pain of self-longing for his bed back in the bunker ran down his spine.

"Son of a Bitch I need a drink!"

He immediately left and drove until he found a bar. He walked in and found a seat near the bar at one of the taller tables, brushing off crumbs from the previous occupants as he sat down. The waitress came over to take his drink order. She was wearing a black shirt with a sloping neck line and Dean just couldn't resist turning on the charm. He looked up at her with his big green eyes and award winning smile.

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Dean was already three drinks deep when you walked in. You were wearing jeans with brown combat boots. Your worn black leather jacket covered your AC/DC t-shirt. You looked around the bar; pain was chipping off of the walls, the floor looked like it had never seen the bottom side of a mop, and there was a rundown Juke Box in the corner playing Bon Jovi's hit _You Give Love A Bad Name, _and it was filled with bikers and low lifes that thought they were all hot shit. You sigh and walk up to the bar. Maybe they wouldn't notice you tonight. You ordered your favorite beer and looked up at the TV to watch whatever sport was on, hoping that it would distract you from your memories that still haunted you.

"Hey baby, care to see what a Real man is like?" You turned and look to see a balding biker with a handle bar mustache, tattoo sleeves running up both arms with the classic I love mom and spider web. You roll your eyes, shake your head from side to side, and remained silent. You hadn't even gotten half way through your drink yet maybe he would take the hint and go away.

"Hey I'm talking to you! What you think you're too good for me?" He tried to grab your arm to spin you around to look at him, but you shake him off without taking your eyes off of the TV. You reeeeaally weren't in the mood for this tonight.

"Look here you prude little bitch." He put a hand on your shoulder and griped even harder. You were about to turn around and break his hand, maybe that would teach him a lesson. But before you could someone else had grabbed the biker's wrist and twisted it behind his back. The biker's face twisted up in pain as he let out a gasp of air between his cigarette stained yellow teeth.

"Take a hint asshat, she wants to be left alone." The man let go of the biker's wrist and shoved him away. He then turned around, "You okay?"

"I'm fine, but I really - ." You begin to say as you look over at the man. You do a double take and it takes everything in your power to stop your jaw from dropping. It wasn't because you were stunned from how handsome he was, because he was indeed one of the most beautiful boys you have ever seen, but you had also recognized him, although you soon realized that Dean didn't recognize you. "I really just want to be left alone." You finish saying before turning back to your beer.

Your look of recognition didn't go unnoticed to Dean. "I'm sorry, have we meet before?"

You didn't answer at first. He really didn't recognize you. It had been years… but you thought for sure that he wouldn't have forgotten. You sure as hell haven't. At a loss of words to say you finally sputter out, "No, I guess not."

Dean knew she was lying. She did seem familiar but he couldn't place where he knew her from. Dean shrugged, got the bartenders attention and ordered another drink, one for himself and one for you. "I'm Dean by the way," he said as he handed the drink to you. "I know you want to be alone, but if anyone bugs you again, I'm sitting right over there."

"I can handle myself, thanks." You say getting defensive.

"Suit yourself."

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Dean walked back to his table. He sat there for another hour or so trying to figure out where he knew you from. He finally gave up, figuring that you were just another girl he had met in school. He could never keep the names and faces straight. Besides he spent most of his time in High school watching out for Sammy. Why couldn't Sammy be here? He remembers faces and names better than Dean could. Maybe Dean would call Sam later and ask if he knew the girl at the bar.

He finally left and went back to the motel for the night. Sleep did not come easy that night, and he toss and turned into the early hours of the morning. The next day Dean found out that there had been another attack in the middle of the night when he went to the dinner for breakfast, the locals had been gossiping about it. He had woken up late, later than he would have liked. Normally Sam would have woken him up by either typing furiously at the keyboard of his computer or just coming back from a morning run. He left the dinner, quickly showered, put on his suit, and grabbed some coffee on the way over to the crime scene. It was in the middle of the woods not far off from one of the many hiking trails that criss-crossed the Montana landscape.

When Dean arrived he quickly surveyed the area. All the trees, the grass, the bushes, and anything else in the immediate surrounding area were dead. The man who died was lying exactly in the middle of the circle of now brown and grey plants. Dean walked over to the sheriff and flashed his badge. "FBI, I'm Dean Ford. Can you tell me what you have found out so far?"

"One of ya wasn't enough?" The sheriff said in disbelief. He had a small Minisodian accent.

"Excuse me?" Dean's eyes narrowed, heart quickening a little bit. He would be in deep shit if the real FBI was here.

"Yah, your office just not tell you or something? She over there. Oh wait, nope that's her over there driving off. You just missed her."

Dean could just make out your face through the window as you drove off back towards town. He began to relax, she must be a hunter. That's how I know her, Dean thought to himself. He stood there for a moment trying to zero in on where exactly he had known you from and yet he still couldn't remember. He turned back to the sheriff. "Did she leave her name or anything?"

"Just a business card with her name and a phone number to reach her at if we found anything." Dean motioned to see it and the sheriff handed it over.

"Did you call in to make sure she was real?" Dean criticized, making his credibility more reliable.

The sheriff shook his head. "She had a badge," He shrugged.

"Give me a second." Dean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the second number on speed dial. He walked a few yards away from the sheriff.

"Hey Dean!" Garths happy go lucky voice was almost palpable through the phone.

"Garth I have a serious question for you. Have you ever heard of Y/N? Or do you know if Bobby had known her or even mentioned her?" Dean was praying that Garth would be able to jog his memory.

"Um, Well I don't recognize her name, but let me go through Bobby's Journal and contacts list and let me call you back."

"Thanks Garth." Dean closed his phone and walked back to the sheriff.

"Well? Is she real or not?"

"My people are checking into it. But for now, if you find anything you tell me first. Got it?"

"You got it boss."

"So have you seen this happen before?" Dean motioned with his finger, looking up at the dead plants around them, getting back to the hunt at hand.

"This is actually our eighth case. Each time it's the same thing. A hiker disappears and we find them dead, surrounded by a circle of dead plants."

"Do the vics have anything in common?"

"Not with each other." The sheriff motion for Dean to follow him. "Although each victim we found did have claw marks. The kicker is that none of the cuts were deep enough to cause any real harm. None of them died from being attacked. It's like they just died."

"You mean like they were scared to death?" Dean immediately thought of Ghost Fever, and he involuntary shivered at the memory. And yet this just didn't quite fit the bill.

"Yah you could say that."

"And the.." Dean paused to find the right words. "the, uh, ring of dead plants, is that always the same size or have you seen it any bigger?"

The sheriff thought for a moment. "Mmmmm. No… no it's really been the same each time."

"Sheriff, I'm going to need a list of the people who died so I can talk to their families. Do you happen to have that on hand?"

"Yah, just a moment."

Dean began to look around for any more clues while the sheriff walked off to get the list.

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"Damn it!" You curse to yourself as you hit the steering wheel. You left immediately once Dean had shown up. You had hoped so badly that Dean had only been passing through and that he hadn't caught wind of the case you were working on. You sighed. What were you going to do now? You still didn't know how you felt. Is Dean a friend? Or should you be wary of him? You did have a good reason to be scared of him. You shivered as the memories of Dean flashed across your thoughts. You did your best to push them to the back of your mind. Now was not the time. People were dying and you needed to stop it.

You pressed your foot down on the gas. Your car speed to the one person that had any real information that would be useful, the wife of one of the vics. She had heard the attack but everyone thought see was crazy with her outlandish ideas. You skipped all the names of the relatives on your list, which you had found yourself doing hard, cold research, and drove on to the only one that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

S. Reed

Warning: Foul Language

POV changes between the reader and dean.

I do not own any of the characters.

Enjoy

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Finally reaching your destination you step out of your prized car and walked quickly up the sidewalk. Every step you took in your high heels was like a power boost with every click. You looked good and felt great, and although you preferred jeans and a t-shirt, you knew that you had any normal man under your spell when you were wearing your suit.

_Knock knock knock_

After a few moments passed, you started to get disappointed that no one would be home. You knocked again just in case. From behind the thick heavy oak door came a small voice, "Who is it?"

"I'm with the FBI ma'am, my name is Y/N, I'd like to speak with you about what happened to your husband a few months ago."

The door opened up a few inches. "Can I see your badge?"

After holding it up the women opened the door all the way. She looked like a mess. Her hair was quickly pulled back into a messy bun and she was still wearing a bath robe. "The house is a mess, is it okay if we sit on the porch?"

It was a nice summer day and you didn't mind; besides you liked the fresh air. "Fiona, could you tell me what happened on the day your husband died?" you ask as you slide into one of the worn wooden rocking chair.

Fiona didn't speak for a moment and when she did she spoke slowly. "I didn't really see much, I heard him scream and when I ran over to him he was dead."

"Fiona, I need you to tell me everything okay? Down to the last detail, no matter how strange it might be. Okay? I need to hear your version, not the version the police convinced you you saw." Your soothing concerned voice helped her relax a little more. "How about you start with how you got separated."

"Well, it's a little bit difficult to explain. I had stopped and knelt down to tie my hiking boot because it had come undone. Richard had walked ahead a little bit to see where the path led. I was almost done tying my shoe when he had told me he saw something that was off the trail and that he would be right back. In the moment I had thought nothing of it. I took that time to get some water to stay hydrated and that's when I heard him scream. He sounded terrified. I dropped everything and ran up the path a little bit to where he had walked off… When… when I looked for him… I thought I saw something…"

"It's okay. You can tell me. What did you see?"

"I don't know how to describe it."

"It's okay." You smiled, "Just try."

"It was big, I mean tall like, similar to the height of a grizzly bear." Hmm you had never really faced something abnormally tall, which made you a little nervous. "I don't think it was an animal, although it sounded like one. But it looked like it had hands.. or… claws. It was black. Not black like the suit you are wearing but black black, like black as the darkest sky. And it… when it was done… with my husband I mean… it looked at me and then it just sort of glided away."

You wanted to ask questions but Fiona was starting off into space trapped in her memory. You thought it would be better just to let her continue.

"I ran to him, once that thing disappeared. I ran to him. He was just lying there. I thought he was dead."

"Wait he wasn't?" You interjected.

"I thought he was. I bent down and held his head in my lap and then he slowly opened his eyes. But… he could barely keep them open. Then I noticed that he was barley breathing. I begged him to stay with me. I cried for help so many times. I didn't have any cell reception where I was. And then… just like that… he was gone…"

You put a hand on her knee and she came out of her memory, tears running down her face. Fiona realized she had been crying and wiped them away.

"I just have a few more questions for you and then you can go, okay?" you asked cautiously. Fiona just nodded sadly for you to continue. "When you saw the, um, dark being, do you remember if all of the plants died around you?"

"Um… Yes… Everything started to wilt and turn brown, but only in the area where my husband was."

"Did you feel anything? I don't mean worry or fear for your husband. But when you looked at it, the dark… being, did you feel anything?"

It took her a little longer to answer this one. "I felt short of breath and tired. But those feeling disappeared when the thing left."

"This might be difficult but it is important. Do you remember the last thing your husband said to you before he left the hiking trail?"

Her voice began to quiver as she reminisced on her husband's last words. "All he said was that he saw something and that he would be right back."

"Thank you for answering my questions. Please, if you think of anything else, again, no matter how crazy they sound. Please call me. Everything little thing helps okay?" You handed her your business card and gave her a soft smile. "You're going to be okay, I am going to find what ever did this to your husband."

Once back in your car you let out an audible sigh. Great this was something new, something you had never heard about before. You were going to have to do some homework. Freaking wonderful… Not.

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Dean was starting to lose his patience. Every single person he had talked to so far was a bust. They didn't know anything more than the police did which gave Dean the strong urge to punch someone. Luckily he only had one more name on the list; Fiona Devavon. His shinny black impala slowly came to a stop outside of a sad looking red bricked house. Dean stepped out and walked up to the heavy wooden door. He raised his arm to knock on the door.

"Are you with the FBI too?" Deans hand froze only a few inches away from the oak. He turned his head to see where the voice was coming from. Next to him on the porch, Fiona was still sitting in the same spot as she was earlier when you had stopped by. She was slumped down in the rocking chair with her feet up on a coffee table in front of her.

"Excuse me?" That was the first time any of the relatives had even mentioned that someone else had stopped by. "You mean a women stopped by earlier?"

Fiona nodded slowly.

"How long ago?" Dean asked excitedly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm not sure, I have been sitting out here for a while now… She came around elevenish." Dean looked at his watch. It was three in the afternoon now. He began to piece together that you had done your research and knew that Fiona was the girl to talk to, and now you had a four hour head start on him.

"I'm really sorry to bother you but is there any way you can tell me everything you told the women who stopped by earlier?"

"What for? Aren't you partners?" Fiona asked raising her eyebrows. "Ask her."

"I'm just fact checking ma'am. Just making sure that what you tell me is consistent." Dean smiled that award winning smile of his.

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Dean's head was still whirling from all of the information he had gotten from Fiona. Not only that but he was envious that Sam had gotten to deal with the Wendigo. At lease he knew how to kill that one already. This was a new monster and he had sooooo wish that little Sammy was here to do all the research. Not only would it go by faster, but Sam just really had that knack for finding information that was hidden in the deepest corners of the internet.

Just then his phone came to life, tearing him away from his thoughts about possibly calling and getting Sammy to do the work for him. Dean looked at the caller ID; It was Garth. He quickly flipped open the phone and put it to his ear.

"Garth, Please tell me you have good news." he begged.

"Well… I don't really know if this is good news or bad news… just interesting. I mean I don't even really understand it. It just doesn't really make sense or add up." Garth contemplated.

"Well spit it out man! Who is she?"


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own the characters, just the story.

Warnings: foul Language. (also the plate number is made up so.. if you are a creeper... dont even try)

POV changes between Dean and Y/N (which by the way stands for: your name)

Hope you like it.

Also if you guys find any errors, it is okay to tell me! I am dyslexic and i try REALLY hard to proof read everything.

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"I looked through Bobby's Journal and contacts list. It took a while but I finally found her. Y/N talked to Bobby in 2002. In his Journal he talks about how she was new to hunting but determined. They bumped into each other on a Vampire hunt. She was a good fighter and so Bobby gave her some pointer tips and kept in touch from time to time, she would call asking about monsters and the usual hunter stuff. They kept in contact until about 2006. And then she just… well it seems like she just dropped off the map. One of Bobby's entries says that he tried to check in with her to make sure she was okay, and she never picked up. He tried several times. Dean, I went ahead and called other hunters that might have interacted with her around this time and they all said the same thing. They had heard of her, or bumped into her once or twice and then never saw her again. It's like she was just gone."

"So what she was in hiding? Or did she leave the country? Or did she just stop hunting for a while and now she is back?" Dean had been listening carefully and now began to grow more frustrated. Just when he thought that he would get some answers, all he got was more questions.

"I don't know Dean; I don't have much on her." Garths voice was sympathetic. "Hey, does she have a car? Get her license plate for me and I'll run it and see if I can't get anything on her that way?

"Yah I call if I see her again. Thanks Garth. Take it easy." Dean sighed as he hung up the phone and threw it into the seat next to him. "Damn it, who are you!"

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Finally, your research is done. You slumped back into your chair and let out a deep breath. Well at least you knew how to kill the thing, you think to yourself staring at the dim glow of the computer screen. You rubbed your eyes because no matter what they always hurt after staring at a computer screen for so long. The curtains in the motel room you had rented were drawn, and they blocked most of the afternoon sun. You stood up and stretched, tightening all the muscles in your legs and back, trying to get all the stiffness out of your joints. Turning around, the clock next to your bed read 4:06 pm. Letting out another long sigh you slump back into your chair and read through your notes one more time.

The monster you were hunting was a Gijavod. The name was derived from the Croatian words energija and odvod, which translated in English to Energy drain. You assumed it meant an entity that drains energy from its surroundings. After further research you found a decent enough description of the beast. The Gijavod is similar to a walking skeleton that is covered in what most describe as a cloak. Many people have mistaken the monster for a reaper due to the way that pop culture portrays the grim reaper. While it look like it glides across the landscape it does actually have legs, but the Gijavod is so light that it doesn't leave foot prints, even in the snow. It looks like it glides because of the thick black smog that seeps from underneath its cloak where it dissipates into the air. One of the websites that you had stumbled upon even went as far to say that if you were able to collect some of the smog before it dissipated, that it could be used in high powering spells and curses.

Gijavods hibernate every 30 to 50 years. When they wake up from their slumber they suck energy from their surrounds and prey for the next nine months to prepare them for their next hibernation. They are drawn to areas that have sealed pockets of oil or natural gas. Some believe that when they hibernate they actually find empty pockets of air in the bedrock and as they sleep the smog that comes out of their cloak turns into oil and natural gas. But no one has any hard evidence because of the Gijavods extreme hibernation cycles.

There is luckily, one way to kill them. They have to be stabbed through the chest cavity where the energy is being held. The energy is held in the chest cavity like liquid in a corked jar. When the cavity is punctured it lets the energy drain out into the surrounding environment like water leaking from a cracked bottle. The only catch is that the stake has to be made of a the trunk of a Fir Tree soaked in a mixture of holy water, peat moss, and basalt dust.

You read through the list of ingredients again. And then a third time. Where the fuck were you going to get volcanic rock dust? You did a quick Google search of all of the rock and mineral stores in the surrounding areas. Finding one that looks suitable for your needs, you quickly scribble the number and directions down.

Rubbing your eyes one last time, you get up and go to the duffle bag that is lying on your bed. Half of the contents in the bag were sprawled out on the bed. You pick through the few clothes that you own and find your hoodie. Even though it was summer outside the temperature began to drop was the sun got lower in the sky. You grab your keys, your wallet and pocketed a knife in your combat boots. You learned a lot time ago to always carry a weapon.

After looking around the room to make sure you didn't need anything else you left your room and locked the motel door behind you. Stopping just outside your door you closed your eyes and breathed in the fresh Montana air. _Ah fresh air, there's nothing like it._ A smile graces your lips. But it is short lived because when you open your eyes you see a slick black car rolling into the parking lot.

"Shit!" You say under your breath as you pull up your hood over your head. Walking to your car, you keep your eyes on the impala and watch as Dean steps out of the beautiful car and stands up. He turns around and looks directly at you. He put his hands in his pockets and turned his chin up like he was trying to decide whether or not he should come over and talk to you.

But you wouldn't give him that chance. After unlocking your car you immediately backed out of the parking spot and drove away. You looked in your rear view mirror to get one last glimpse of Dean pulling his phone out and calling someone before you turned the corner.

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"34H9BNQ" Dean recited from memory.

"Great, do you know by chance the make and model of the car?" Garth patiently asked.

"I don't know about the model. But she drives a Land Rover." Dean waited a few seconds to allow Garth to write all this down. "How are you going find her from her license plate number?"

"One of my contacts works at a Police station over in Arkansas. He has been a real great help to the hunters. He can run information for us that we never thought we can get our hands on. Dean we really need to network more, I mean imagine if we –"

Dean cut him off, "Garth how quickly can you get that information to me?"

"Uh haha well, probably not until tomorrow morning. See I got this date tonight and Man you wouldn't beeeliieeve the curves on her. I mean WOW!" Garth's awkwardly cocky voice stated.

"Dude, Come ON!" Dean ran his free hand down his face pulling at the skin. Garth seemed to get more tail than Dean and Sam put together. Not that Sam ever tried to get any, girls just seemed to throw themselves at his tender nature.

"Sorry buddy, Don't worry I'll let you know how my night goes. I know you work hard and need someone to live vicariously thro-"

Dean closed his phone. _I don't need to live vicariously through anyone Damnit_! He shoved the phone in his pocket. He looked at the room you walked out of. The motel the two of you were staying at was U-Shaped with the parking lot in the middle. Typical Motel.

_Damn it WHO are you!_ Dean's curiosity got the better of him. Looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes, he walked across the parking lot while pulling out a small flat wallet like item out of the pocket on the inside of his jacket. Once he reached the door he measured up the key hole, pulled out the necessary tools out of the wallet and began to pick the lock. Maybe, HOPEFULLY, there would be at least SOMETHING that would tell him who she was in her room!

After taking a deep breath and looking around the parking lot again for good measure, Dean slowly opened the door and peeked inside. "Hello? Room Service!" His deep voice called to make sure that no one was in the room. _Good because I would do a terrible job at cleaning up after other people. _He looked around and took in the room. On the bed was a duffle bag, whose contents laid in a mess around it. On the bedside table there was a book that she was currently reading to entertain herself at night, and an old tape player with matching headphones. The desk table was cluttered with hand written notes, old newspaper clippings, a closed laptop, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. The only other personal items were located in the bathroom, next to the sink, in her toiletries bag.

The desk was the closest so Dean started his investigation, more like snooping, there. After quickly glancing through the handwritten notes on the Gijavod he realized that he had practically won the jackpot. Dean smirked, pulled out his phone and began snapping photos of all of your hard work. "Heh heh heh, Sucker." He quietly laughed to himself. The old newspaper clipping were from all of the victims.

Turning from the desk, his eyes fell upon the duffle bag. It only took two steps for his long legs to reach the bed. "Awesome." Dean grinned from ear to ear as he held up a pair of your lacy undies. "Man would I like to see her wearing these bad boys! Oh what I would do to her."

Dean had to force himself to pull his thoughts away from your body and back to the task at hand. The duffle bag contained a plethora of different things. A few pairs of Jeans, some band T-shirts, a suit, and other basic clothes. There were a few books on myth, lore, legend, and monsters, and a few old tapes including AC/DC, motley crue, quiet riot, Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Foreigner, among several others. Some of the more interesting things that Dean found in the duffle bag were some Anxiety pills, sleeping pills, a pair of dog tags, and two photographs. The first was of a family. Dean figured out that the older couple was the husband and wife and the two kids were brother and sister. The little girl looked like Y/N so this must be her family. The other photo was of Y/N and a man that looked to only be a few years older than her. _A possible Boyfriend maybe? GOD I hope not. _Dean raised his eyebrows; the guy looked like a total Douchebag.

Dean carefully put the photos back where he had found them and looked around again. He noticed that something was sticking out from under the pillow at the head of the bed. He lifted the pillow up exposing a long worn hunting knife, which he guessed was also probably made of silver. He smiled softly, he couldn't judge her for that because Dean knew that he had his own knife under his pillow. He gingerly placed the pillow back down, and walked back to where the computer was laying on the desk. He opened it and turned it on. "Are you kidding me!" Dean pouted. The computer had a password. This was Sam's area of expertise, not his. Sighing Dean took one last look around the room, checking to make sure that everything was in exactly the same place that he had found it.

All of a sudden Dean's phone went off, vibrating in his pocket and singling loudly, which made him jump a little. Wait.. was he on edge? After checking the caller ID he realized it was Sam.

"Sam?"

"Hey Dean, just wanted to check in." Dean could hear him typing away at his keyboard through the phone.

"Sammy, quick question. Does the name Y/N, ring any bells?"


	4. Chapter 4

S. Reed

Warning: four language, and the monster is of my own creation

I do not own the characters though.

Please, I am dyslexic, so if there are any annoying mistakes please tel me. Thanks

also Y/N means your name.

Hope you all like it.

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"Sammy, quick question. Does the name Y/N, ring any bells?"

"What, Who?"

"Y/N?" Dean goes on to describe what you look like in detail, and he doesn't leave out that you have lacey panties.

"Come on Dean, get your head out of the gutter. And no I haven't heard of her. Is she a hunter? Is she there with you?"

"Yah she is a hunter, Garth confirmed it. And no she isn't… Dude I think she is avoiding me."

"Wouldn't surprise me, Let me guess you saw her in a bar and bought her a drink?" Sam said wittingly.

"What NO!"

"OH MY GOD YOU DID DIDN'T YOU!" Sam busted out laughing.

Dean held the phone away from his ear for a second and took a deep breath. "Okay so what if I did!? That's not the point! I think I know her from somewhere!... Dude this is serious!"

"Okay, Okay, Sorry." Sam took a deep breath and composed himself. "Do you think you have…. You know, hit on her before, and that's why she won't talk to you!?"

"Sammy Shut up!"

"Haha Jerk!"

"Bitch!" Dean instantly replied. "Anyways how's the wendigo hunt going? You gank the son of a bitch yet?"

"No. I have been out here for days and I think I am close to finding it. It's just.. It could be anywhere yah know? These woods are so big. Anyways what about you? Do you know what you're hunting yet?"

"Uh Yah." Dean, who was still in your room, went back to your desk and picked up your hand written notes. "Dude have you ever heard of a Gijavod? Cause that's what I'm hunting."

"A what?"

"Dude a Gijavod." Dean said it like he was smarter than Sam. He intentionally sighed like explaining what it was to Sam was a waste of his time. "Look have you ever watched Harry Potter?"

"Only the first four movies." Sam was interested by tried really hard not to show it because he was annoyed with Dean.

"Ok well it's like a Dementor, only it sucks your energy and…" Dean paused as he read through your notes. "… and it turns smoke into oil?"

By this point Sam had caught on. "Dean you didn't actually did the research. You stole it from Y/N! You're in her room right now aren't you?!"

"Okay yah! You got me." Dean smiled and chuckled.

"I knew you weren't that smart."

"What did you say!?"

"You heard me! Jerk!"

"Bitch! Oh it's on! When you get back you better keep one eye open!"

"Or what!? You going to put Nair in my soap again?"

"MAYBE!"

"Okay, Whatever!"

Dean liked talking to his little brother, but he also knew that you had a head start on him, and for some reason Dean was a little competitive. Maybe it was because you were a girl. "Look Sammy, I got to go. You be carefully with the wendigo. Call if you need anything. Okay?"

"Thanks Dean. You too. Hey wait!" Sam's voice sounded concerned. "Dean… you there?"

"Yah Sammy, I'm here. What's up?"

"If that thing you are hunting sucks up your energy…. You might want to look into getting some adrenaline. Like, pure adrenaline from a hospital or something."

Dean thought for a moment, it would definitely give him an edge. "Yah, I'll work on getting that. Thanks Sammy."

"And Dean?"

"What?"

"It's Sam."

Dean laughed, "Yah whatever Samantha!" And with that, the tone on the phone went dead, and Dean put his phone in his pocket. He took one last look around your room and then left to collect his things and figure out where he was going to get volcanic dust.

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The gravel crunched under your tires as you approach the trail head. After you had left the motel you spend the next two hours finding the tiny Rock and Mineral enthusiast store and finding something to eat for dinner. Getting the basalt rock turned out to be more of a hassle than you thought, seeing how the clerk was overly curious in why you need basaltic dust and not just the rock its self. You knew you should have just asked for the fucking rock and ground it up later. But whatever, you knew for next time. Not that you anticipated fighting another Gijavod any time soon.

Dinner consisted of two energy drinks, lots of sugar and candy, and a burger from a fast food joint. You wanted to be ready for this thing, it was better to be hyper than tired when you finally faced it. You had bought a few extra energy drinks that you planned on bringing with you for your hike in case you started to have a sugar crash.

All in all that took two hours because the mineral store was the next town over. And out here in boondocks of Montana, one town over meant at least a 30 minute drive if you were speeding. You only had a few hours of light left and you really didn't want to waste any more time.

You stepped out of your jeep and walked a few paces into the woods and looked around until you found a suitable contestant for your peat moss ingredient. Walking back you remove the false floor in your trunk and pull out a bowl from the large lock box. First you added the water and blessed it. Next you added the peat moss and the volcanic dust. You removed the sharpened stake made of Fir wood, which you had sharpened while you were waiting for your food to be delivered to your car at the small drive and go joint, and added it into the bowl.

Nothing really happened, but then again why would it, you weren't casting a spell or anything. _How long am I supposed to let this soak for?_ The energy drinks and the sugary food you had eaten had made you jittery and impatient. You decided to spend your time double checking your back pack to make sure you had everything.

Energy drink? Check. Water? Check. Flashlight? Check. Compass? Check. Lighter, trial map, wind breaker, energy bars? Check. You seemed to have the basics. Good.

You looked back at the now greyish water that had bits of moss and wood floating in it with the heavier pieces of basaltic dust settling on the bottom. You tapped your foot on the ground impatiently like you were waiting for something to happen. _Eh good enough! _You were so done with waiting. You had acted like an FBI agent, did hours of research, and even went on a supply run. You were just itching to get out in the woods and blow of some steam and hopefully gank one son of a bitch skeleton.

With the wooden stake in hand, which still had bits of peat moss on it and was still dripping the greyish water, you grabbed your backpack and swung it over your shoulder. You locked your car and started off down the trial.

Even though you were looking for a monster you still really enjoyed the hike. You were moving at a fast pace, seeing as how you had a lot of ground to cover in only a short amount of time. That coupled with the fact that you wanted to get this hunt over with so you could skip town before you saw Dean again. But none the less you enjoyed it. You could hear the wildlife off in the distance hidden by the trees and underbrush. The temperature was perfect for a hike. And the bugs didn't really seem to bother you at all. The only thing that might have made it better would be if you had a companion. But then again you didn't mind the solitude.

You had been at it for a few hours now. Your shoes were covered with mud, clothes soaked with sweat, and your hair was starting to fall out of the braid you had put it in. Your hand was sore from clenching the wooden stake. To be honest, you hadn't really realized that you had been squeezing it so tightly. I mean this was your first real big leagues monster since you had gotten back into hunting. For the past few months you had stuck with ghosts, shape shifters, and even a Rakshasa, which was a Bitch to kill.

The trail you had decided to follow led to a large rock outcropping that a person could climb. At the top of the granite rock you could see the forest for miles. The mountainous terrain looked like it has a rough furry evergreen blanket. Off in the distance you could see the smoke from a camp fire. You took a deep breath and breathed in the fresh air. _Ahhhh_…. There was nothing like it. From up here you felt like you were on top of the world.

The sky was starting to glow with red and orange, signifying that it was probably time to head back to the car. As much as you wanted continue the hunt through the night you knew it was better to come back bright and early tomorrow and pick up the search again in the morning. You sighed and took a minute to catch your breath, take a drink of water, and a few more precious seconds to appreciate Mother Nature.

After about two miles back to the trail head you realized that you were starting to come off of your sugar high from your earlier energy drinks. As you walked you debated with yourself whether or not you should drink the extra one in your backpack. On one had you could still run into the Gijavod and you wanted to be prepared. On the other, if you didn't encounter the monster you still had to sleep tonight and if you drank an energy drink now you knew you would be up till at least three in the morning.

Before you had made up your mind you were distracted by something in the forest. Something wasn't right. There were no natural wildlife noises. It was just dead silent. Except…. Except for a noise that sounded like heavy air bubbles popping underwater. You looked around, spinning on your heels. _There! _Just a stone throw away was something that looked like it didn't belong in the forest. You took a few steps closer.

"What, what even is that?!" the words quickly escape your lips under your breath, they were barely audible.

It looked to be a pool of black bubbling ooze. The bubbles rose slowly out of the deadly back slop. When the bubbles popped they let a greyish misty smoke escape from the clutches of the mysterious ooze that smelt an awful lot like tar.

Now you understood why Fiona's husband and been drawn off of the trail. Your heart quickens as you finally realize what you had stumbled upon and you regret not drinking the extra energy drink.


	5. Chapter 5

S. Reed

Warning: Foul language, i do not own the characters, and i made up the monster.

Seriously guys, please let me know if you find mistakes or if you have suggestions.

please enjoy

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"Son.. of.. a.. BITCH!" Dean shouted to no one in particular. That was the second tree root he had tripped over within the past five minutes. The sun had begun to set but Dean didn't want to call it a night just yet. You were still out there, therefor so was he. He wasn't about to let a girl out hunt him, Oh HELL no!

Dean had gone to the same mineral enthusiast store that you had stopped by earlier. Although you had gotten off easy. The store clerk knew he was the only person within a hundred miles that sold basaltic rock, and so he wouldn't sell Dean the rock until he knew why he and you wanted volcanic rock dust. Dean, the master of lying and bullshit, pulled off a pretty well rounded, almost believable story involving a fraternity and sorority scavenger hunt and some type of initiation ritual. Luckily, the guy bought the story and Dean was able to get on the road again.

Dean however didn't pick up any energy drinks, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He was more focus with catching up with you than the hunt. Although he did swing by the hospital in the town where the mineral enthusiast store was located, and picked up a syringe and a sealed bottle of pure adrenalin.

After driving back into town from the supply run, Dean had found which trail head you had parked your car at. He pulled up beside your land rover and mixed his ingredients the same way you did. Before setting out he made sure that he had his cell phone, flashlight, keys, the adrenalin/syringe, and the wooden stake. Unlike women, men have many gloriously deep pockets.

He had only been on the trail for an hour when the sun began to set. He was on the same trail that you were hiking and you hadn't passed him going back to the car yet, which meant that neither was he. But boy was it starting to get dark. Dean twisted the top of the flashlight, tightening it, which connected the batteries to the metal mechanisms, turning on the bright beam of light.

"Come on you ugly ass skeleton! Come and get a piece of me!" Dean called into the darkness that was closing in around him. He waited a few moments for any sounds of something unusual. All he heard was crickets and the muffled sound of a wolf howling in the distance.

He sighed then begged, "Come on dude. Come after me, not her."

While a part of him was competitive, he truly wanted to find the monster first. It wasn't that he didn't trust that you were a legit hunter; he was just worried that you weren't as experienced as him, or strong enough. This was the big leagues, and not everyone can handle it.

He continued down the trial, humming an Aerosmith song to himself. Every now and then he would look down to make sure he was still tracking your trail. He smiled knowing that you hadn't gotten off the trail. When he came to a fork in the trail he first read the sign. Overlook 6 miles left, black bear trail 18 miles right. He knelt down trying to pick up your tracks again to see which way you had gone. He had just started down the trail toward the overlook when he had stopped dead in his tracks.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Y/N!" Dean panicked. He knew it was you. It sounded like you. That, coupled with the fact you were the only two people hiking this trail right now. He also knew that you sounded like you were in a serious amount of pain and trouble.

Dean broke out in a dead sprint toward the scream's point of origin.

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(Ten minutes earlier)

Now that the Moon and stars were out, you were able to see clearly around the forest. However, the eerie pale silver light didn't even so much seem to reflect off the oil and muck in front of you. It was just black, sucking all the light into it. If you hadn't known any better you would have described it as a black hole.

Your hand tightened around the wooden stake making your knuckles turn white under the pressure. You took a tentative step forward. _I know I need to pierce the chest cavity, but where on this bastard is that, or is this just what it seems to be; is it just sludge?_

You stop as you watch the edges of the black ooze slowly contract back into the center which itself had begun to rise up. You stared in complete disbelief as the muck reached your height and then kept rising. The top of the goop started to take the form of a skull. Once the muck had reached its maximum height of an astounding eight feet it seemed that gravity had regained control and the thick black liquid began to run back down to the ground. Exposing a skeleton, first the head, then the vertebrates of the spin, and once it reached the clavicles the muck began to transform into what looked to be a coarse fabric of some type. A material that was completely soaked with the black ooze that would drip to the ground occasionally.

You stood frozen as you stared into the dark holes of the skull where the eye sockets would have been. It was almost like he had you in a trance as the monster finished transforming. But that wasn't true. He didn't have that kind of control over you. You were just… Scared. You were only human.

Once the monster had finished transforming, you looked it up and down. It was the tallest skeleton you had ever seen. The bones were a dark grey like they had been stained from sitting in oil or tar. There was still cartilage and even the remains of muscle still clinging on to the bones. The cloak hung around its neck and came down to about the middle of its femurs. The leg and arm bones were longer than any human's bones.

You took a step back. It took a step forward.

Slowly you took off your backpack and placed it on the ground. You swallowed your fear, and a look of determination graced your face. You blocked out everything; how scary it looked, the nagging feeling you had in your gut that you were going to die, and the fact that you were starting to feel tired.

You let out a fierce battle cry as you launch yourself toward the Gijavod. As you quickly closed the gap between you and the monster you flipped the wooden stake in your hand so that the point of the stake was on the opposite side of your thumb, pointed towards the ground. As you passed a tree that was near where the monster stood, you jumped, planted your foot on the bark, pushed off and launched yourself into the air. You brought the stake above your head and held it with both hands. You were on target for coming down right in front of the monster giving you a clear shot at where the monsters sternum would have been.

Or… So you thought.

The Gijivod effortlessly brought its arm up with an outstretched hand and caught you in midair by your neck making your soaring body stop violently.

"Ghck," You choked as the long boney fingers began to tighten around your throat. Your feet kicked under you trying to find the ground underneath you. One hand still held the wooden stake as the other hand quickly came up to your neck. You tried desperately to loosen the monsters grip on your neck, while swinging the stake at the Gijivod uselessly, like a little kid trying to throw a punch at a bully taller than him holding him at arm's length.

Your face began to turn colors as your body used up the rest of the oxygen in your system. With one final act of survival you flipped the stake in your hand once more so that the point was now facing the heavens and you swung it up towards the monsters arm. With one lucky swing you managed to lodge the stake in between the monsters ulna and radius bones, wedging them apart. The mixture of holy water, peat moss, and basalt dust burned the monster, making the bones burn as if they had come into contact with acid. The monster cried out in agony and it lost the grip it had on your neck, causing you to fall to the ground. Luckily you still held on to the stake when you fell, and your weight had pried it out of the monsters arm.

You landed in a heap on the ground, gasping for air. You tried to quickly collect yourself by standing up, which only made you dizzy from the lack of oxygen in your system, but you held you're ground and held the stake up in front of you for defense as you tried to suck oxygen in your lungs. By now the Gijivod had recovered and it swung its uninjured hand at you knocking the stake out of your grip.

You watched with wide eyes as the stake flew through the air and landed fifteen feet away from you. After whipping your head around to look at the monster and then back again at the stake, you bolted away from the Gijivod toward the stake. Unfortunately for you the Gijivod had longer legs and within two steps had already caught up to you. Before you were within four feet of the stake, the monster swung his arm down catching you across the back, knocking you to the ground as if you were a rag doll, like throw'n away an old toy.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" You screamed with such intensity that even the heavens could hear you. The monster had raked his fingers in between your shoulder blades and down your back leaving your jacket, your shirt, and you with four deep gashes that began to bleed immediately. Luckily none of them were deep enough to sever your spine, but you were pretty sure that a few of your ribs were nicked.

Gritting your teeth and blocking out the pain you began to army crawl your way towards the stake that lay harmlessly in front of you. Right as you reached for the stake the monster grabbed your side and violently flipped you onto your back. You screamed again when the long boney fingers tore the side of your waist to shreds. You tasted blood on your tongue.

The Gijivod knelt down above you, with its knees on the ground on either side of you. It placed its boney hands on your upper chest and pressed down, its sharp fingers puncturing your skin. It held you there so that you couldn't escape its clutches. You struggled with it trying to push it off of you. The monster bent down towards you, bringing its ghostly skull a foot away from yours. You could have sworn you saw it smile, but that would have been crazy because it was just a skull. And then it hit you like a ton of bricks. The feeling of exhaustion. It was like the monster was breathing in your energy. You looked up at the trees around you and they were already wilting and turning brown.

Your grip on the monster began to loosen and your arms slowly fell to your side. You weren't even fighting him anymore you were so exhausted, more exhausted than you have ever been in your life. You fought to even keep your eyes open.

_Fuck this, Like hell am I going to let myself die today! _

You forced your left arm above your hand, blindly groping for the stake on the ground above you. Suddenly your fingers brushed up against a wooden stick. You hoped to God the wood you were touching was the stake. You slowly used your fingers to roll it towards you just enough for you to get a grip on it. Once you had it in your hand you could feel the smooth face of the wood and you knew that this was the stake you had sharpened earlier. In your hand you could feel that the shaft of the wood became skinnier near your thumb, indicating that you were holding the stake the right way. You brought your arm back to your side, and using all the strength you could muster up, you shoved your arm skyward, hitting something sturdy under the cloak. This brought you hope giving you just the extra energy you needed to push the stake farther into the skeleton's chest cavity.

The monster let out an ear piercing screech and rolled off you. Its legs thrashed about on the ground while its boney hands came up to where its rib cage would have been and pulled out the stake from its chest.

You watched as the monster tried to put pressure to its wound like a human would have put pressure to a wound to stop the bleeding. But the monster wasn't bleeding. Well it certainly wasn't blood. You vision started to go in and out of focus but you could make out enough to know that the blue electric plasma like substance seeming from the Gijivod was all of the energy the monster had stolen from its victims. The raw energy began to float toward the sky like helium, and then slowly dissipated into the air around it far above the tree line.

By now the monster had stopped moving and just lay lifeless on the ground next you.

"Take that you fucker!" you whispered to yourself. By now you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer and the darkness began to take over, and you succumbed to your injuries you had sustained.

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Dean had been sprinting through the forest as fast as he could for a few minutes now. Every now and again he would stop and call out your name hoping that you would call back to him. He had no such luck.

_This should be it. This should be where I heard the scream or at least close to it. _Dean had estimated the distance. He tried to call you again, "Y/N!... Damn it WHERE ARE YOU!"

Dean spun on his heels trying to look through the forest and pale moonlight. Just then the shadows around him began to dance and shiver from a mysterious light source. He spun around and looked to the sky. No more than a hundred yards from him, he saw a strange blue electric liquid float towards the heavens and then slowly dissipate into the air around it. It didn't take long for Dean to realize that was the energy from the Gijavod.

"She… She did it!" Dean whooped and hollered as he ran toward the mysterious light. He entered the small clearing looking for you so that he could congratulate you. But all he saw was two bodies sprawled out on the ground. One was an oversized skeleton the other was the frail figure of a girl. Dean slowly walked forward into the clearing toward you, but his eyes never wavered from the skeleton. He didn't want it to suddenly attack him. As Dean approached you, he watched as the skeleton's bones turned black and chalky like coal. Dean let out a surprised cry as bones spontaneously burst into flames. As quickly as the fire had started, it died, leaving the ashes of a bad memory behind; ashes that were carried away with the wind.

Now that Dean knew there was no impeding danger, he sprinted over to you and fell to his knees next to your limp body, dropping the stake in his hands.

"Please, please don't be dead." Dean whispered as he checked your pulse. He bowed his head concentrating hard. There seemed to be no pulse.

_BuBump._

Dean's head snapped up to look at you. You had a pulse, it was there, but it was faint. He jarred you a little trying to wake you up.

"Hey, hey, please open your eyes; come on sweetheart look at me." Dean's rough voice pleaded with you.

Your eyes fluttered open for a few seconds and then closed again.

"Come on, damn it! Concentrate!"

You opened your eyes again, but you could barely focus on anything.

"Hey it's going to be okay, alright? I am going to take care of you." Dean said with concern.

You recognized the voice and your eyes widened as you finally were able to focus on Dean.

"N…No… D…Dean…" You voice was barely audible. Dean could hardly make out what you were saying. The thick sticky blood in your mouth also made it hard to talk.

"Don't talk!" Dean ordered. He brought his hand to caress your cheek and you flinched. "Hey, hey, hey, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. You're safe now… Y/N? Hey stay with me!"

Your eye lids started to droop and your eyes began to roll into the back of your head. Dean tried to shake you awake a few times and then noticed that you weren't even breathing. He checked your pulse again. It was still there but it was still faint. But your body just didn't have the energy to breath.

Dean frantically pulled out the syringe and adrenaline bottle. He took the plastic covering off the syringe and punctured the bottle, quickly drawing up the clear liquid into the glass.

"Please don't hate me for this!" Dean quickly said has he stabbed the needle into your left shoulder in between the puncture wounds the Gijavod had left.

Your eyes shot open as the liquid entered your blood stream and reached your heart. You took a deep breath. "D…Dean!" You said in distress as you grabbed his jacket with one hand, a bit of blood came out of your mouth, a few drops landed on Dean's face.

Dean blinked and just looked at you wide eyed, mouth slightly open in shock.

And then you fainted, your arm fell, and your eyes closed again.

"What? N..NO!" Dean shook you again trying to get you to wake up. When you wouldn't he checked to make sure you were breathing and checked your pulse.

"THANK GOD!" You were breathing regularly and your pulse was back to normal. But you were still passed out. Dean made the connection. The Gijavod is a monster that sucks energy, you must just be exhausted. He smiled as he relaxed. You had surprised him. You managed to kill a big league monster, and that was impressive.

"Let's blow this Popsicle stand." He said quietly to you. After putting on your backpack and adjusting the straps, he slowly put one arm under your legs and started to slide one arm under your back. He quickly drew it back when he touched something warm and sticky. When he saw that his had was red from your blood he gingerly rolled you over to assess the extent of your wounds. He had rolled you over onto your good side. He made note of all your wounds. Ten puncher marks on your chest, four gashes in your side, and four deep gashes in your back.

"Okay," He sighed, even though you were out for the count and couldn't hear him, "This might sting a little." Dean pulled out a flask that he always carried from his inside jacket pocket. He wanted to at least clean the wounds so they wouldn't be too infected. He would clean them better later. He poured the brown liquid over your back and the side of your waist. Then Dean picked you up in a fireman's hold, with your good side to the back of his neck. You were situated sideways on Dean's back, where he was holding your arm and the back of one of your legs over his shoulders, your other arm and leg dangling toward the ground.

Dean made the long trek back to the car. He had to stop once, balancing you on his shoulders to get his flashlight out and put it in his mouth. He didn't want to trip over any protruding roots, especially not when he had you on his back. Dean found that carrying you on his back wasn't as obnoxious as he thought it would be, considering you were significantly lighter than Sam. You didn't even slow him down.

Dean made it back to the cars in no time. He looked from his car, then at yours, then back at his. "Sorry sweetheart but I think you're coming home with me tonight."

Dean went to the trunk and fished for his keys in his pocket, still holding you on his shoulders with the other hand. He opened the trunk and pulled out a thick dark blanket. He managed to situate the blanket to lie across the back seat and then somehow managed to get you off his back without hurting you any more than you already were. He lifted you into the back seat and wrapped any extra fabric around you.

Dean climbed in the front seat and turned on the car. He put the car in reverse and spun around in the back seat to look out the back window. Before he took his foot off the break he looked at you for a few seconds. You looked so familiar to him, and he felt like there was a spot in his heart for you, like you had somehow been a best friend to him in another life, like you had helped him through tough times, but there was also a sense of pain, like the two of you had a falling out. Dean sighed, he would have figure it out later, right now you were hurt and he needed to patch you up.

"Do me a favor would ya? Try not to bleed out all over my car."

Then he backed out of his parking spot and speed down the highway toward the motel.

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I apologies for that horrible rag doll, Areosmith reference for those of you who caught it. I know it was bad, i just couldn't help myself.


	6. Chapter 6

S. Reed

Warning: Foul Language. I do not own the characters.

Hope you like it.

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Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel. He stepped out of the slick back car, put his hands in his pockets and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Not a soul in sight. Good. The first thing Dean did was fish his motel room keys out of his pocket, then he opened the door to his room and propped it open. Next he walked back to the car and opened the door to the back seat. Leaning in through the frame, Dean gently lifted you into his arms, marriage style. You were still wrapped in the dark blanket.

"Sonny, do you need some help there?"

Startled, Dean quickly stood up out of the car and turned around to look at the voice, accidentally hitting your head against the car frame in the process.

"SHIT!" Dean exclaimed when he heard the thud sound from your head making contact with the metal. Looking up he saw an old married couple had just walked out of their motel room. "No, no. We're fine. She's just had a long day, yah know, too many drinks at the bar."

The couple didn't seem convinced and continued to stare at him with a look that made Dean really uncomfortable. Dean tried again, "She was at her friend's bachelorette party. Come on you know how girls can get, to many shots."

The old man nodded his head in understanding and winked at Dean, then led his wife to their car, and drove off. Dean rolled his eyes and took you into his motel room, laying you down on your side as gently as he could on the single queen bed. After closing and locking the door he retrieved the first aid kit from his old worn duffle bag that was on the floor at the foot of the bed. Returning to you he began removing the things he needed from the first aid kit and placed them carefully on the bed side table next to him. The last thing he grabbed was the chair from the desk; he set it down next to the bed, and looked you over carefully. Dean was going to have to cut off your jacket and your shirt to be able to even get at the wounds.

Dean grabbed the scissors from the bedside table and began delicately cutting the fabric away from your back. When he tried to remove your shirt, the fabric clung to your back because of the wet sticky blood, and he had to be extra carefully not to irritate the wound when he pealed it off of your skin. Now that he had a good view at the wound, Dean could actually take in how much damage you had sustained from the monster, and it was bad; Dean could see all the way to your bones. He couldn't imagine how painful it must to have been to lay still much less move. Dean quickly serialized the wound again, and then a third time for good measure, and then began the long process of stitching each gash up with the thread and needle he had. He was thankful that you weren't awake for any of this because it would have just intensified the pain. To have your wounds serialized and sown back together on top of the immense damage there already was would have been excruciatingly painful. Dean wasn't even positive if you would even completely heal from a wound like that. It was bad, and you were going to be out for the count, and it was going to be at least several months before you would be able to do anything again. Dean finished sewing the wound.

Your other wounds were nothing compared to the wounds on your back, and were easier and quicker for Dean to patch up. After stitching you back up, Dean wrapped gauze around your back and waist, which completely covered your torso so it looked like you were wearing a tight mummy tanktop.

Dean finally relaxed and slumped back in his chair. He took a sip of the beer he had gotten himself during some point in the process of sewing you back up. Dean sat there, not wanting to get up, partly because he was tired from hiking and carrying you back to the car, and partly because there was a beautiful shirtless woman in front of him.

Sighing and finishing off his beer, Dean stood up and walked to the fridge to get another one, but when he reached for the handle he realized that his hands were covered in blood, your blood. He took another deep breath and walked to the bathroom to see how dirty he actually was, and it was bad. His hands were completely covered in blood. His face was dirty from dirt and sweat. And his shirt had sweat stains at the armpits and the occasional spot of blood from the way he had carried you. He was a mess. "Son of a…"

Dean quickly striped down and showered, removing all the blood, sweat, and dirt from his body. After getting dressed Dean straightened up the room, putting away the medical supplies and chair. Seeing as there was nothing else to do other than wait for you to wake up he grabbed a blanket and tried to get comfortable on the couch, which was a useless battle because of how tall he was. After hours of tossing and turning, sleep finally took over.

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When Dean woke up, the first thing he did was check on you, and you hadn't moved an inch from last night. After checking your vitals again to make sure you were still among the living he went and got breakfast. Then came back and waited for you to wake up.

Dean spent most of the day searching your room again for your wallet, or anything that would help him figure out who you were. He even drove back to where your land rover was parked and searched it from end to end. Dean found your secrete stash of weapons, and was impressed that you had an arsenal that was almost has plentiful as his. He did find a box of different IDs, one for the FBI, another was a park ranger, and so on, all with different last names, none of which he recognized. The only other thing that was interesting in your car was a box of CDs, and the acoustic guitar in the back seat. Not finding what he was looking for, Dean locked your car and headed back to the motel.

The rest of the day was spent eating fast food, browsing his computer, and occasionally checking your wounds. He only had to change the gauze on your upper back once. By the end of the day he was restless and he hadn't found out any more about you after searching all of your aliases. He tried calling Sam a few times but the number went to voice mail each time, which only added to Dean's restlessness, leading him to go on a supply run for alcohol.

Finally, Dean started to relax by watching bad television and drinking beer. The day had gone by uneventful and so slowly that Dean began to fall asleep in his chair. His eyes would droop and his head would bob up and down as he fought to stay awake just a little longer. Eventually he gave into the sleep and put his head down on the desk in front of him.

"unnh…"

Dean's head shot up, and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Did he imagine it or did you really just move? Dean stood up but didn't move from that spot, he just looked at you, trying to decide if you really did move or not.

"Unnhun." You quietly murmured in your sleep, moving your head a little bit on the pillow.

Dean's mouth dropped. You really did move! He walked over to your bed side. "Y/N, can you hear me?"

You didn't respond. You were still fast asleep, but your face would occasionally scrunch up and you would fidget like you were having a nightmare. Every once in a while you would murmur something in your sleep. Dean had tried waking you up but to no avail. He even tried talking to you in your sleep to see if you would answer any questions but struck out with that idea too. You were too lost in the dream you were having.

After about an hour you started to get worse. You had managed to grip the blanket in your hands, and when Dean had checked your pulse it had quickened dramatically. Dean was starting to get really worried and tried once again to wake you up.

"Come on Y/N please! Wake up!" Even though he still didn't remember who you were, it pained him to see you like this.

"No… Please.."

"What?" Dean leaned in closer to hear what you were trying to say.

"Ple….Please stop…"

"Y/N" Dean softly pleaded with you to wake up. He wanted to help. He wanted to save you from the nightmare.

Your face was now contorted in pain and every muscle in your body had tightened. And Dean just sat there helpless. He tried putting his hand on your arm to sooth you, to let you know that someone was watching over you. It didn't help.

"Ple… Al…

"What?" Dean was leaning over you now, one hand firmly planted on the bed on either side of you, a worried expression on his face.

"Alastair… please.."

Dean's heart sank. "Oh God… Y/N!"

Dean finally remembered who you were and where he knew you from. He Had met you in Hell. You had been on the rack next to him in hell. You were there before he was dragged down, and you were still there when he was pulled out by Castiel. Bad memories flooded his head at this recollection, none of them good, and most of them even worse than the last. Dean had spent forty years in hell, which was four months above ground. He couldn't even imagine how long you had been down there. For thirty years Alastair had asked both of you, you first then dean, if either of you wanted to trade your place with another soul. Each day you would spit in Alastair's face and tell him to Fuck off. It was like you had no fear, none at all, even though you knew the beating and the torture that would follow. And each day when Alastair asked Dean, you would be in the background, telling Dean not to give into the Devil. You helped Dean cope with most of Hell, well as much as one could ever cope. You were a small beacon of light in the darkest of places. There were a few times even Dean had to stop you from saying yes to Alastair, being strong for you where you had been strong for him. It went on like this for twenty nine years, never really talking or getting to know each other, but constantly reminding each other not to give into the darkness. And then Alastair had separated the two of you, moving you to only God knows where. The next year had been the hardest year for Dean to say no, and by the end of it he had finally caved into the pain, not wanting to bear it anymore.

Dean straightened up and took a step away from you. _How was this possible? How are you even alive? You were in hell for Christ sake! It's not like you can just walk out of hell. There has to be a reason. There was always a reason for everything. An Angel must have pulled you out._

But first, Dean had to be sure you were actually who he thought you were. He quickly retrieved the holy water and a silver knife, poured the holy liquid on you and just barely nicked you with the knife. When nothing happened, he finally knew for sure you were real, and that an angle must have brought you back. Dean quickly checked both of your shoulders but there was no raised skin in the shape of a hand print in sight. Knowing there was nothing on your upper body under the gauze; he quickly removed your combat boots and rolled your jeans up as far as he could. Finally he found it; the perfect shape of a hand print was wrapped around your upper ankle.

Dean cursed under his breath. As happy as he was that you were out of hell, God knows you deserved it; he was still really upset because he knew that angles just don't pull anyone out of hell for no reason.

You were still asleep and you were still having a nightmare, reliving your own personal hell. Deans heart broke when he realized this, knowing the feeling all too well. Now the bottles of anxiety and sleeping pills Dean had found in your room all made sense. You needed them to sleep at night. Dean completely with every fiber of his body understood what you were going through. He didn't sleep for the longest time when he got back from hell, and when he did he was haunted by nightmares. Finally after a year he was able to lock the bad memories in the back of his brain.

"Alastair, Please!" You continued to plead in your sleep, your voice growing louder.

"Oh…. Y/N…" Dean's heart broke for you every time you spoke.

"Alastair… Please… Please… tell him to stop… I can't… Please Dean… Please stop…" You whimpered.

Dean's heart completely broke in half when he heard you say that. You were dreaming about him. Her personal hell was Dean.

After Dean had given into Alastair and said yes to switching places with a soul in hell, Dean became Alastair's apprentice. For the first six years Alastair had taught Dean everything he knew until there was nothing else he could teach Dean. And when Dean had surpassed him, breaking more and more souls into submission each day, Alastair set Dean loose on you. It was Dean's job to break you, and he tortured you for the next four years until Castiel pulled Dean from hell. Dean never knew if you finally broke or not. But what he did know was that you had never suffered as much in your whole time in hell than you did in those four years. And the fact that you dreamed about him, that he was your nightmare, completely broke him. Now everything made sense, why you avoided him, and why you flinched when he touched your cheek in the woods.

At first, all Dean could do was just sit there and stare at you. Not knowing what to say or what to do. But after a while he finally realized that you weren't going to wake up anytime soon, and the nightmare you were having was not going to go away.

Dean stood up from where he was sitting, walked back to the bed, crawled in, and moved closer to you until you were in his arms. He was careful not to put his hands anywhere on your back or waist where your wounds were. He pulled you close to him. You were both laying on your sides, facing each other, Dean's arms around you, and his head resting on top of yours. Even though he was gentle with you he still held you tightly.

"I am SO sorry Y/N, so sorry for everything. I promise I will never let anything like that happen to you ever again. I know that you probably hate me, and you have good reason to, but I promise that I will never do those things to you ever again. I promise I will never hurt you." Dean continued to whisper sweet promises into your ear as you slept. Eventually your face softened and your muscles relaxed, like your nightmare had completely disappeared. Even after you had relaxed, Dean didn't move, he just laid there with you, afraid that if he did move, your nightmares would come back. Dean spent the rest of the night with you, not letting you go, with silent tears of guilt falling down his face.

"I am so sorry, so so so sorry." Dean's voice cracked as his whispered it for the thousandth time. Eventually he joined you in sleep, haunted by all of the different scenarios about why an angle would pull you out of hell.


End file.
